Page 92 of If You Claim Me
I down my champagne and spend the rest of the photo session inserting Connor and myself into every single one of them, because fuck his parents for leaving him out at his own damn wedding.
CHAPTER 24
DRED
Connor links his arm with mine as we walk back toward the hotel. “This reception is as much a business meeting as it is a flex,” he explains, his voice low.
“Of course it is.”
“All of my parents’ contacts are attending, and some of them will be exceptionally interested in you.”
“In an unfriendly way?” I ask.
“Mm, exactly.” He rubs the center of my palm with his thumb. “So I might be annoyingly attentive this evening. I apologize in advance.”
“You’re my husband. You’re supposed to be annoyingly attentive,” I remind him.
His nostrils flare, and his gaze darkens. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I’m glad you feel that way, wife.”
The moment we step into the reception hall, the introductions begin.
Connor keeps a protective, possessive hand on my lower back as his father and mother introduce us to influential person after influential person.
Anytime someone asks when he’s giving up hockey to jointhe hotel empire—which is often—he deflects and asks them pointed questions about their own children and their career goals. The answer is often the same: They’ve joined the family business, of course.
Connor has spent his entire adult life defending his choice to play professional hockey. Yet they can’t fathom why he would choose this path when the one laid out for him makes so much more sense. Every introduction paints a more vivid picture: He’s a beautiful villain. And he’s mine.
“Now that you’re married, are you planning to quit hockey?” a bigwig in finance named Martin asks.
“Not until the league stops offering me contracts,” Connor replies coolly.
“It’s a rather violent sport,” Martin muses.
“So is the world of finance,” he retorts with an arrogant smile.
Martin chuckles. “Well, you won’t end up with gaps in your smile from running a hotel business.”
“My son might, since he tends to enjoy pushing buttons,” Duncan says with a hint of warning.
“Especially yours, Father,” Connor quips.
“Oh my gosh! Dred, your wedding is amazing! This is so cool! Thank you so much for inviting us!” Everly drapes herself over me like a blanket. Victor stands behind her with his hands in his pockets, wearing an apologetic smile.
“I’m so glad you could make it. Where’s Cordelia?” I glance around for the group home’s primary contact and guardian.
“She had to use the bathroom. They have an attendant in there who hands you a paper towel and cleans the sink after each person uses it. Like whoa.” She makes a mind-blown gesture. “I didn’t even know that was a thing. You look like a princess. Do you like my dress?”
“I love your dress.” It’s very nineties prom and completely suits her personality.
“I got to buy a brand-new one! We didn’t even go to aconsignment shop. And Victor got a suit and people pinned it while he was wearing it!” She sucks in a breath.
“Did you have fun picking it out?” I’m halfway to tears at her excitement. I sent money to Cordelia at the group home so they could get something to wear.
“So much fun! And there are people here walking around with appetizers. They keep offering them to us, and we can just take them. They’re so good.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I kind of wish I’d brought a container and a bigger purse so I could take some home.”
“We can have a box packed up for you, if you’d like,” Connor offers.
His father has moved on to a conversation with a group of businessmen and his sons-in-law.
